


Salvation Lies

by derriere_le_miroir



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Blood, Disturbing Themes, Explicit Language, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Torture, MGSV, NSFW, One Shot, PTSD, PW Drama CD, Psychological Trauma, The Phantom Pain, War Crimes, pre-release
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-27 16:58:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derriere_le_miroir/pseuds/derriere_le_miroir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Big Boss finds one of Kaz's tormentors.</p><p>This fic contains GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF TORTURE. Pre MGSV release, not entirely canon compliant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. story

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【翻译】救赎所在](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1671659) by [yezixx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yezixx/pseuds/yezixx)



_Good morning, sunshine. Let's hear what the boys came up with today, hm?_

"Kaz. Wake up."

_I wonder how his Boss would like it if we cut out his tongue so he can't scream for him anymore._

"Kaz!"

He awoke drenched in sweat and with a hoarse throat. Somebody's hand was at his shoulder, still shaking him awake, and Kaz reflexively batted at it once with the phantom limb, then with the hand he still had.

He blinked a few times. It was Ocelot.

"What?" He gruffed. Had he been talking in his sleep again? About the nightmares he'd lived through, for the entire base to hear?

"Get up and dressed. The Boss wants you. Now."

"Now?" Kaz repeated, and turned his head just enough to glance past Ocelot's figure and at the window. It was still dark outside, and Kaz himself in no state to be of any use yet, not even a week after being freed from captivity. "What for?"

"He just came back from recon, and found something interesting." Sounding smooth and calm like usual, there was still a strange glint in his eyes Kaz couldn't quite place. Anticipation, perhaps. "You'll see. I'm not going to spoil the surprise."

It was going to be a very nice surprise, Kaz was sure. He'd had so many of those lately. Too tired to ask for more information and knowing that Ocelot wasn't going to give him any, Kaz sat up, catching the clothes he tossed at him, and roughly shoved him away when he offered his assistance.

"I can do this myself, thanks," he grated.

*

Kaz trailed behind Ocelot, down the corridor leading to the holding cells, having trouble to keep up with the other man's pace after refusing his help, once again. Ocelot slowed down gradually, step after step, and that was when Kaz consciously realized where they were heading, or thought they were headed. He hadn't been to this part of the base yet; hell, he hadn't seen anything besides the helipad, the showers, the infirmary and his own room yet.

"Must be a big fish he caught," Kaz commented, dryly. He really doubted he'd be dragged out of bed for just any random POW.

"I wouldn't say that," Ocelot answered, still walking in front. "Rather small, in fact. But very rare and slippery."

Before Kaz could inquire further— _really, what's that supposed to mean_ —they rounded another corner, and in front of the first door on the left side was a group of maybe four, five of their soldiers, moving about in a flurry of activity. Two of them were dragging a tied up body along, face concealed by what he assumed to be a plastic bag; another one was shuffling some sort of trolley into the room, following the others. He thought he could make out Big Boss's large frame a little farther down the hallway, talking to another recruit who snapped to a salute.

Before Kaz could call out to him, asking him what this was all about, Ocelot pushed him through the door, and he almost tripped over his own walking aid. "Hey," he protested, but unable to put up any real resistance all the same. "What...?"

His breath hitched when his eyes scanned the room he just entered, recognizing it for what it was. Desolate, filthy, with just a single source of light, and no windows. No furniture either, aside from a pair of chairs and an old wooden table looking about ready to fall apart, which were being relocated from the center of the room to one of the walls. His gaze was riveted to a trail of dark blood, leading into a larger stain, smelling fresh.

A sense of dread immediately settled at his stomach, and Kaz turned around on the spot. Ocelot was in front of him, again.

"Relax," he said, knowingly. "And take a seat."

"This is an interrogation room," Kaz said in a rushed voice, blanching. His paranoid mind was conjuring up the wildest scenes: him being tied to a chair, next to an assortment of very sharp and very deadly tools, because Big Boss wasn't done with him yet, the other Cipher spy. _Betrayal goes both ways_ , he'd say, before his steel hand wraps around his throat in a crushing grip, and then—

_Impossible._

"Quick on the uptake, aren't you," Ocelot went on. "But this isn't about you. Well, not like that, anyway." He inclined his head towards a miserable looking figure in the corner of the room, bent over like he was about to retch, but being held up by two guards. He was dressed in a uniform Kaz recognized only vaguely, but it was none of their own. The plastic bag guy.

Kaz kept staring at him, trying to figure out where, if at all, he knew him from, being unable to shake the sense of familiarity. Ocelot seized the opportunity and gently shoved Kaz further into the small, cramped room, past the medical trolley and its equipment. He pushed Kaz down and into one of those chairs, then took his crutch to place it against the wall.

"He wants you to watch," Ocelot explained, all matter-of-fact, no emotion.

"Watch what?" Kaz had a fairly good idea what would happen here by this point, but he didn't really want to believe it. For what reason? Since when was interrogation some sort of social event to which you invited friends and family? "Why? I'm not really in the _mood_ —"

The metal door fell shut with a heavy, foreboding bang, demanding silence. Reverberating footsteps followed, and Kaz looked up at Big Boss's dark figure, his imposing grace. He was sporting mostly black leather, adorned with the Diamond Dogs insignia and broken up only by the crimson prosthetic that had taken over the function of his left hand.

"Boss," Kaz said without thinking, a slight tremble to his voice. "What's going on?"

"Kaz," Big Boss replied in his usual baritone, and a shiver ran down Kaz's spine, the way he said his name, demanding nothing less but his full attention. "What were the names of the men who did this to you? You told me the other day."

Given that Big Boss had ignored his own question, it was not a good idea to deny him an answer in turn.

"Gibson, Moore and... Simmons, I think. Why?"

"Ah," said Big Boss, and turned away from Kaz, towards his prisoner, still restrained. Kaz could hear his frantic panting, and the panic contained in every inhale and exhale of breath. Could it be... He looked up at Ocelot, standing beside him with his hands clasped behind his back, following Big Boss's movements with undivided attention.

Kaz tried to do the same, tensing up when Big Boss addressed their captive, raising his voice just enough to make it perfectly clear who he was talking to.

"What did you say your name was?"

"G...Gibson," came the hesitant, muffled answer. "Melvin Gibson."

"That's funny," Big Boss said, hushed, but Kaz recognized the slight, sharp edge to it. He grasped the man's upper arm, signaling the guards to step back, and dragged him over to where Kaz was; right in front of him, Big Boss kicked him across the legs, forcing him onto his knees. In one swift move, the bag was pulled from his head, and Big Boss yanked it back by a fistful of hair, presenting his face.

"Is that the one?"

It was a weird feeling, to say the least, to be face to face with your tormentor again, only that this time the roles were reversed. He'd never forget them—or rather, their grimaces, and the sadistic pleasure written across their features as they cut away at him, piece after piece. The disgust and hatred welling up were so sudden and overwhelming Kaz felt like he was about to throw up. He instinctively touched his right shoulder, to soothe the nonexistent ache.

"Yeah," he said, hoping to keep his voice steady. Although he knew their surnames due to overhearing conversations, Kaz had always referred to them in terms of cruelty—there was the Slightly Cruel One, the Moderately Cruel One, and the Especially Cruel One.

Gibson was Moderate. He'd had the most fun with sensory deprivation and waterboarding, and amputated his arm in one clean cut once he got tired of Kaz's incessant screaming, resulting from the meticulous, slow back and forth sawing Simmons, the Especially Cruel One, tended to do. He hated all of them with equal intensity, but at least with Moderate and Slight, Kaz could always be relatively sure that he'd survive the day.

In the end, that had been the only deciding factor those past few months: would today's pain be tolerable enough that he was gonna live through it, or not. And: how many limbs would he have left, once he made his escape. If he made an escape. He'd spent whole nights mulling over how many miles, in theory, he could traverse on just one leg. With one leg and one arm. With one leg and no arms.

Kaz took a deep, shaky breath through his nose, lips pressed tightly together. Gibson was staring at him, his cheeks dirty and wet, and Kaz recognized the fear gripping his entire being, reflected on his face. He'd lived it himself, day after day, week after week.

And now he was here, at his Boss's mercy—the man they'd joked about on so many occasions, mocking Kaz, telling him that he was a rotting corpse at his point—risen from beyond the grave with vengeful intent.

The satisfaction Kaz derived from the image alone unsettled him, but he didn't care.

"I must have gotten the other two during our escape. This one wasn't so lucky, eh." Big Boss pulled roughly at his hair, Gibson yelped.

Kaz looked up at Big Boss, with awe.

"What are you gonna do?"

"First of all," Big Boss spoke, with sobriety and a tight, humorless smile, "I'm gonna ask him a question."

"Please," began the pointless pleading. "I was acting under orders. It wasn't my call—" Big Boss momentarily let go if his neck, only to hit the side of his head with a clenched fist, giving him a laceration, then tore at his scalp again.

"This is my friend," he forced him to look at Kaz, "You've spent some time together, I believe. He recalled your name quite effortlessly. I was wondering if you can do the same."

"Wha...?"

"His _name,_ " Big Boss snarled.

Moments passed, no answer came. Kaz took off his sunglasses, staring into a pair of clouded eyes, provocatively. Still nothing.

"I see."

Big Boss gave him a rough shove, causing him to hit the concrete ground, hard, unable to cushion the impact due to his hands being bound on his back. Kaz watched him kicking Gibson, making him roll from his side onto his back, and then—

"The name of the man you disfigured and tortured for almost six months—"

Big Boss's boot swept downwards, hitting him hard in the ribs. There was a long, drawn out whine, and Kaz could have sworn he heard a bone snap. His heart started to beat faster in his throat.

"Is Kazuhira Miller. He is my second in command," he kicked him, again, "my best friend," again, harder, "and he belongs to me. How dare you," a last one, aiming for the face this time, and Kaz cringed at the ugly, crushing noise of reinforced boot hitting skull, "lay a hand on him?"

Kaz's tormentor convulsed in pain, then tried to contort himself into a ball, protecting both his face and stomach from further assault.

Big Boss snorted, derisively, but his boot remained on the ground.

"Seeing as you can't remember, I'm not sure why anyone should remember your name, either," Big Boss said, dragging the whimpering man up by his neck, again, prompting him to stand on shaky legs. "You don't _deserve_ a name. From now on, I will refer to you as piece of shit, because that's exactly what you are. A fucking disgusting worthless piece of shit. You make me want to puke."

He punched him in the stomach for good measure, exactly where he had probably already broken a rib or two, then nonchalantly tossed the body towards Ocelot, who caught it effortlessly, like he he had expected it.

"Prep him."

"As you wish." Ocelot accepted the order with utmost grace, as if Big Boss was his king. He took the man aside—shaking from head to toe, bleeding in places—and gestured the two guards still in the room to assist him. Kaz thought he could hear him say something to their captive, in a low, mocking tone— _I wish I could tell you this isn't gonna hurt much, but that's a lie even I can't tell_ —but like so often, even when the man appeared to be long gone, he was mentally with Big Boss.

Kaz wished he could put into words the boundless, twisted love and admiration he felt for him, in that moment.

He settled for a soft, "You don't have to do this."

Big Boss gave a gritty sigh, fishing for something in his pockets, and Kaz knew before he pulled it out that it was his cigar case. Behind him, Ocelot and Big Boss's soldiers were still shuffling about, pulling down a hook and some rope Kaz only just now noticed were there, presumably to suspend the captive from the ceiling, who was stripped off the upper part of his uniform at the same time, and his bindings rearranged.

After lighting himself a cigar, Big Boss exhaled a plume of smoke. Dark shadows created by the dim lighting accentuated the creases in his face, making him look so much older, and endlessly tired.

"That's the thing," he said, contemplative, allowing for a crack in the hard shell he had built for himself, "I really want to." He rolled the cigar between index finger and thumb, casting a sidelong glance at Kaz.

"Will you think less of me?"

"If anything," Kaz said reassuringly, and dredged up a smile. "I will think even higher of you."

_Because you are willing to sink so low for petty satisfaction._

Kaz was sure that whatever he was going to witness now, it would both fascinate and deeply terrify him, and he did not want to miss one beat of it. Would it get too difficult to bear, at some point—he did not know, but he was willing to find out, keeping himself grounded in his seat.

He'd never doubted for a second that Big Boss was capable of unspeakable cruelty, but Kaz had never seen it taken on such extreme forms. And directed at someone that had made his life a living hell—more than Big Boss ever had—Kaz would have never thought that he'd find it so alluring. He made it look so easy.

_Take what you want. Protect what is yours. Destroy what isn't._

Big Boss gave a good-hearted chuckle, one Kaz hadn't heard in an eternity, reaching his heart.

"Because you are just like me."

 _I love you, endlessly,_ Kaz thought.

"That's why I'm with you, Boss. 'Til the end and beyond," Kaz said. He opened his mouth again to go on, when—

"Done. Looks good, doesn't it."

Ocelot pointed at his work with some pride, and Kaz stoically put on his glasses again; privacy for his thoughts. The man they had all come here to watch suffer was, indeed, suspended from the ceiling by his wrists, tied together, his feet only barely touching the ground. His upper body was entirely exposed, making for a good target, Kaz supposed.

"Picture-perfect," Big Boss commented, jovially, and exchanged a friendly look with Ocelot. He clapped his hands, once, twice. "Very impressive. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you have a talent for this."

"Thank you, thank you," Ocelot replied, and took a small bow. "You're not so bad yourself."

" _Are you fucking kidding me!!_ " The man suddenly screamed, hysterically, his apathy making space for desperation, and he began to thrash violently against his bindings, swinging a few inches back and forth while putting up a pointless struggle.

Big Boss barked a sardonic laugh. It filled the entire room, and shook Kaz to the core. "So impatient," he gave a long suffering sigh once he had calmed down, and picked up the plastic bag, tossing it over to Ocelot who wasted no time pulling it back over the rebellious man's head.

Big Boss rolled up his sleeves, ready to get started. He took a last drag from his cigar, before he stepped forward, and ground the glowing ember out against his victim's stomach, wrenching a howl of agony from him.

"But who am I to keep you waiting?"

Ocelot, not wanting to steal the spotlight from his Boss or interfere with his work, casually returned to Kaz's side, spurs jingling with every step. "Quite the show-off, isn't he," he quipped, grinning, not bothered the slightest by the subdued sobbing in the background. Or the barely contained screaming, soon to follow, when the sharp, angular edges of Big Boss's mechanical fingers dug into skin, and were dragged down the entire length of his torso, from chest to below the navel.

"No scars to speak of," Big Boss mused, as he actively did his best to change that fact, "Can somebody explain this to me?"

"I'm on the – fucking reserve team – you fuck – _fuck_!" The prisoner trailed off into a whimper, bleeding heavily from four long cuts, all about an inch deep and looking as if inflicted by claws. Far from lethal, but Kaz had no doubt that they hurt like a bitch, much like the knife they had poked into his own skin, every now and then, trying for some funny looking scars out of boredom.

"I was supposed to stand guard there, nothing more! And then you assholes showed up!"

"Ooh," Big Boss made a noise in the back of his throat, low and feral, and his metal fist met his captive's broken ribs. Flesh tore, the body swayed. Another howl, ringing in Kaz's ears.

"No real experience, then. Aside, of course, on how to be a piece of shit. Tell me—did you have _fun_ , guarding the camp?"

Instead of giving an answer, he tried to swing his leg up, aiming blindly for Big Boss—who dodged the attack gracefully, simply by stepping to the side. _Big mistake_ , Kaz thought, with some glee. Desperation was no effective weapon against Big Boss.

He caught the leg in midair with one arm, and dealt a fatal blow to the knee with the other. Kaz could hear the bone being crushed, even through the overwhelming, piercing, deafening scream that went with it. Big Boss let go of the limb, which just hung there now lifelessly, grotesquely deformed, with the knee bent inwards.

The screaming continued for a while, and Big Boss turned away, grimacing as he raised two fingers to his ear, mildly annoyed.

"Jesus."

"How about a gag?" Ocelot suggested, helpful as ever.

"No," Kaz said, reflexively. Ocelot shrugged, and Big Boss acknowledged his partner's wish by doing nothing—except reaching for the handgun in the holster tied around his thigh. He checked the bullets remaining, then removed the safety with a cold, metallic _click._

Behind him, somebody's mood had changed from aggressive frustration to pathetic supplication. Kaz knew that, too—being defiant and snappy on some days, and trying to appeal to his tormentors on others; he'd even attempted to talk sense into them more than once. In most cases, no matter his tactics, it had earned him nothing but more pain and a series of taunts.

"I ... please, god," he was crying, Kaz wasn't surprised. "I have a family – wife and kids. I'm never gonna cross your paths again, just, please, I'm sorry—"

_Little too late for that._

"Do you now," Big Boss said, deceptively soft. His victim nodded frantically, hope renewed.

"Of course... perhaps you would like to tell me where they live, so I can send them what's left of you once we're done here. That's only polite, after all."

He started to wail, choking on his own sobs. "Monster, you're a goddamn monster," he screeched, and Big Boss pressed the barrel to his throat, finger on the trigger and entirely unaffected by the words thrown at him.

"I am."

"Not yet," it shot through Kaz's mind, but he actually said it out loud. Six months—he couldn't get those six months back, but he wanted more, still.

"Don't worry," Big Boss said, over his shoulder, with gentleness reserved for those he considered part of his inner circle. Then his attention was with the bound man again. "As I was going to say, were I any less of a monster, I would give you a swift and merciful death, a bullet to the head." He jabbed the steel barrel deeper into his throat, against the carotid artery, his lifeline.

"Ten years ago, I would have done that. But then, how do you say," his gun, ready to be fired at any time, trailed down the man's collarbone, the fresh injuries on his chest, his stomach—and paused between his legs, right there, where he had pissed himself, now frantically pleading _nonononopleaseno_ —

" _You assholes showed up._ "

The gun discharged, being jerked down at the last second. The bullet hit the kneecap of his other leg, smashing it to pieces, reducing it to a broken, bloody mess. After that, it was another concerto of tormented screams and pitiful wailing, lasting for minutes.

Big Boss gave an exasperated sigh, and holstered his gun. Both legs ruined now, and Kaz supposed that guy was lucky that they still needed his arms for a while, unless his Boss had something even more painful in mind.

At this point, he wouldn't be surprised, and he was drunk on the smell of blood he knew belonged to one of his tormentors. It felt good. It felt right and just, and he had imagined Big Boss coming to his rescue so often, mercilessly slaughtering his captors on the way.

This was even better.

He watched Big Boss reverently, the man his world revolved around, who could deny and grant him breath so easily and whose permission he needed to die, in his sovereign, lofty grace worthy of a king, as he instructed some soldier to get him a bucket of water, seeing for the first time what Ocelot always saw. He felt warmth bloom in his chest, creeping up into his face.

He wanted to have all of that destructive force to himself and pull it over his own crippled body like a protective blanket. Like all of his followers, he had come to love him deeply, unconditionally; and didn't care anymore what that said about him—rotten like the rest of them, having fallen for and worshipping a snake.

"Disgusting. He's bleeding all over the floor," Big Boss gestured distastefully at the leg, pants soaked in blood, dripping steadily onto the ground and forming a growing puddle. He'd gotten himself a tissue from one of his men and was wiping some specks of red from his jacket, then cleaned his prosthetic.

"It's near impossible to get rid of the stain and stench, I'll say," Ocelot commented—Kaz thought he sounded a little cross, but maybe he was imagining that—eyeing the relatively old stain, old meaning a few days in this case. It was no secret that Ocelot preferred cleaner methods; Big Boss, on the other hand, seemed to be a lot more impulsive, physical, visceral.

Messy.

He made a grab for his victim's jaw, who was breathing very slowly at this point, the bag steadily in- and deflating.

"Don't you dare pass out yet, piece of shit. Or do you want me to hook you up to the defibrillator, hm?" He yanked him around, brutally. "Actually, I have a better idea. It's gonna jolt you awake."

"Ahh," Ocelot sighed, pleased.

Big Boss stepped away, and picked up the bucket of water that had been prepared for him, and placed next to the trolley. While he emptied its contents over his prisoner, now remarkably quiet and resigned, Ocelot gestured one of the soldiers to do–something, drawing small circles in the air with two fingers. Kaz didn't understand what exactly, until he took a closer look at the piece of machinery placed on the trolley, a pair of cables sticking out of it, leading to some—

Some kind of generator, looking much like an oversized dynamo, and that guard was now busy turning the crank, charging the electric shock rods attached to it.

That explained it. He should not have been looking forward to this as much as he did, but Kaz was—positively excited. They hadn't done anything like this to him, probably only because they'd been lacking the equipment, improvising with knives and other common supplies instead, or denying him food and water for days.

Big Boss just stood there, for a few moments, presumably waiting for the voltage to reach an adequate level, lone blue eye trained on the drenched, abused body; the numerous injuries he had already inflicted, for nothing but pleasure. There was no point to this, no ultimate goal except to cause as much suffering as possible.

And it still felt so good. He supposed that made him no different than his own tormentor, except that he wasn't the one who had started it. They had. He blamed them. Quivering with rage, owning nothing but a body and a future both broken, he'd insisted on revenge when Big Boss carried him back home, over and over again, until he promised him: _you will get it_. He'd kept his promise, starting by hunting down the men directly responsible, and after that, the world would follow, Kaz knew.

 _If the world wants to wage war with us_ , Big Boss had said, _I shall make sure that it will be a long and bloody one. This is my calling._

"Boss."

It was Ocelot letting him know that the device was ready for use. Big Boss unclenched his fists and approached the trolley, carefully picking up the rods by their electrically insulated handles, one in each hand. Kaz was sitting a few feet away, but could still feel the hazardous voltage they contained, weighing heavily in Big Boss's grip.

He turned back around, merged with the darkness.

"This is—"

There was a loud crack and sizzle; tiny sparks being emitted and illuminating Big Boss's scarred face briefly when he made the rods touch.

"Kind of nostalgic for me."

He did it again, and his victim gave a startled whimper, recognizing the noise and what it meant. From the corner of his vision, Kaz saw Ocelot's lips twist into a grin. He said nothing.

"I always wondered what it's like to be on the other end of this."

Kaz and Ocelot were the only ones to know what he really meant by that; years of fighting and suffering and simply enduring all the things people had in store for him, including, of course, torture. He'd been trained to resist pain, before being released into the wild, left on his own, and to a cruel world. Nothing broke him, physically—he was numb.

She never taught him how to bear the heartache, though.

"This is how we met," Ocelot reminisced. Big Boss snorted a laugh.

"It is, isn't it. But there will be no distractions this time." He took another step forward, dragging the cables behind him, closing the distance. A predator circling his prey. "And no escape."

The man shook his head, panic overtaking his senses. "Please no—"

_Yes._

Big Boss simultanously rammed both rods into his sides, trapping him between them, and Kaz enjoyed the prolonged, gruesome struggle ensuing in front of his eyes: the electricity being released into his body, causing it to shake and convulse and burn up from within; the disturbed gargling when he choked on his own spit and vomit before he started to scream, scream, scream, until his voice cracked, and soon all tension left his body, slumping.

Big Boss quickly pulled the rods away, only to brutally smack his head with one of them, frying his brain.

" _Wake up!_ " He growled, sounding more like an rabid animal than like a man, "Wake up and scream, or I will shove these up your ass!" He jabbed the rods into the open cuts, right where his heart was supposed to be, but Kaz knew he had none. His head flew back. More gargling, unintelligible, muffled screeching. The distinct smell of burnt flesh infiltrated Kaz's nostrils.

"Ask me for mercy, you piece of shit!" Big Boss began to use the metal rods, still decently charged, as blunt weapons, striking at him again and again; his head, legs, crotch, his broken ribs. Kaz sank deeper into his seat, pulse quickening at Big Boss's sudden outburst, his indescribable, raw, _unpredictable_ violence.

"Ask me!"

"M...er..ssh—puh...leas—"

He must have bitten off his tongue. Blood was running out of the plastic bag, painting his throat and chest in long red streaks.

"I don't have any mercy left!" Big Boss shouted, a shrill edge to his booming voice, tinged with furious desperation, as he continued to beat him, bludgeoning his enemy to death. Blood splattered, staining skin and black leather. " _None at all!_ "

Kaz paled at the display and, for the first time since this had started, averted his gaze, feeling ill.

He stopped, after a perceived eternity, letting the discharged rods, now coated in crimson, drop the ground with two heavy bangs. It was silent. Just the steady _dripdripdrip_ of blood, Big Boss's heavy panting, and Kaz's heartbeat.

He looked up at the disfigured man still hanging from the ceiling, his head touching his chest. Kaz listened closely, and could hear his faint wheezing, it sounded wet. Still alive. But dying, Kaz was certain. It was—

"Machete."

Big Boss's tone was cold and controlled once more, and he held out his hand.

"Boss," Kaz voice was quivering, he didn't know why. "I think that's enough."

He wasn't listening. One of his soldiers stepped forward, clearly unnerved himself despite the balaclava hiding his face, and presented a sheath to him. Big Boss pulled a blade out of it, a sharp, metallic hiss that made Kaz shudder.

And then everything happened very fast. Too fast.

Big Boss had a machete in his right hand, reflecting the pale artifical light.

"Do those legs still hurt," he murmured, at no one in particular, and his prosthetic grasped the dying man's belt, to stop the swinging back and forth, left and right. "Let's take care of that."

Kaz drew in a stiff breath, looking up at Ocelot for help; his brow was furrowed, but he shook his head, remaining where he was. Kaz mouthed a silent, _What?_ He quickly turned back towards Big Boss again, who brought the blade up to one shattered knee, moving it an inch higher, and then another, "Right here."

It felt like someone was constricting his throat, and he was having trouble breathing, suffocating. Kaz started to hyperventilate, his vision blurred, and he carelessly tossed his sunglasses aside, rubbing at his eyes, his temples, with his cold, sweaty palms.

_Stop fucking around! Here, I'll make it quick, one—_

"—Clean cut, and we're done for today."

"Please don't," he choked.

Someone was supporting his shoulders, the right one was burning up, a dull throb. It was Ocelot, leaning down, preventing him from falling over.

"John," he called out. Said man had raised the blade already, about to bring it down. That name got his attention, and he reacted, glaring at Ocelot over his shoulder.

"What?"

Kaz was reeling, retching. Big Boss stared, perplexed.

"Kaz," he said, biting frost melting to make room for genuine concern. The blade clattered to the ground, and he cared no longer about his victim, rushing to Kaz's side, stepping on his glasses on the way, which broke under his weight with a loud crack.

"Kaz." He lowered himself to a crouch in front of him, cupping his face with both hands. He was shaking, every fibre of his body fraught with tension and fear, eyes wide and gazing into an abyss crowded with demons.

"Look at me. You're here. You're fine."

But Kaz couldn't hear him anymore. He was somewhere else, his own imaginary hell, when darkness finally overtook his senses.

"Kaz..."

...

..

.

"Kazuhira Miller."

The nauseating stench of death was overwhelming, jerking him awake and forcing him to open his eyes. Kaz looked around, finding himself amidst a beating battlefield, surrounded by corpses, soldiers that had outlived their use. That he had sacrificed to save his own life.

He knew this place. This was where he had lost, over ten years ago, beaten and humiliated. He looked up at the broad man towering above him, his conqueror, clad in olive BDUs, the bandana still tied around his head.

"Boss," Kaz sighed, resigned, glancing at the ground between his hands, and attempted to push himself to his feet.

Someone shoved him down again, and then there were faceless soldiers, one at each side, holding his arms, keeping him where he was.

"Boss?" Kaz repeated, confused. Only now did he look at his face, noticing the hardness in his eye. He kept his gaze trained on Kaz when he held out his hand and said, "Machete."

Kaz's heart skipped a beat. "What?"

"You wanted a kaishaku."

"What? No!" What was happening? This was all wrong, it never went like this. He violently struggled against the men pinning him to the ground, but they were remarkably strong, having been trained by Big Boss. "Let me go!"

Big Boss was handed his machete, and pointed its' tip at Kaz's head. Kaz froze, staring at it. "One clean cut, from behind, across the neck. That's what I'm supposed to do."

"Forget about that!" Kaz screeched, terrified now. "I'll join you! You want me to join, right? I'll do it!"

"Why would I want you?" Kaz turned pale, and gaped at him. "Why would you—" He began, his voice rising. "Why would you want me?!"

...And then it occured to him.

Why, indeed?

"You tried to kill me. You think I'd risk you trying that again?"

"Boss, that's not—listen to me, I—damnit!" He thrashed against his human bindings, again, "I want to be your partner, okay? Just, take me with you, we'll build MSF and everything will be—"

He wanted to live, that was why. He could see it now.

"I'm getting tired of this," Big Boss grunted, dismissing the man on the ground and ending the conversation. "Hold his head down so we can get this over with."

"No!" Kaz screamed as the men pulled at his hair, and Big Boss stepped around, to his back.

"Is there no mercy in you?!"

Someone pressed their hand against his mouth to shut him up, and Kaz bit into it ferociously, with as much force as his jaw could muster, but it had little to no effect. He didn't want to die—he'd never really wanted to, even pulling out that damn grenade in his desperation, never expecting the rough kindness he received from a man who had every right in the world to kill him, to abandon him to an unforgiving battlefield, who had forced him to _live_ —

_There's always a reason to go on living, Kaz. Even if it hurts._

"You _saved_ me!" It was Kaz's muffled scream of protest against the bleeding hand, tears streaming down his face. He heard the blade cut through air, and then everything went black, the abyss swallowing him, again.

*

"Kaz!"

He awoke drenched in sweat and with a hoarse throat. A cold, red prosthetic was at his shoulder, shaking him awake. He stared into Big Boss's rutted face, inches above his own.

Kaz began to scream and struck him, aiming for the head. The blow connected, Big Boss grunted, trying to catch his wrist, but Kaz punched him again before trying to scramble out of bed, out of his reach.

"Kaz!" Big Boss bellowed, getting a hold of his torso at the last second, pulling him back onto the mattress, pinning him and his single wrist there.

"Get away from me!" Kaz shrieked, out of his mind, his senses ruled by sheer animal panic. Big Boss was going to strangle him, behead him, kill him. He had to get away, now, _now_ —

"Calm down!"

Kaz continued thrashing, not calming down anytime soon, seeing a demon rather than a man.

"Don't touch me, don't— _leave me!!_ "

Big Boss could do nothing but hold Kaz down, enduring his fear, his desperate struggle as he was trying to escape from something that wasn't even there. Kaz fought against his resolute grasp for minutes, until he had depleted his energy reserves, and submitted to his fate, panting heavily.

"Don't..." He pleaded, barely above a whimper.

"Kaz," Big Boss said again, and his voice broke. It took him several tries until he could continue, "It's me. You're safe. No one's gonna hurt you."

Kaz began to weep, sobs worming their way out of his throat, rocking his ruined body. Big Boss exhaled a shaky breath, helpless. He closed his eye.

"Do you recognize me at all," he muttered, more to himself than to Kaz.

"I recognize you all right," Kaz said under tears, more or less coherent. "What _are_ you, Snake? What am I?"

Big Boss just looked at him, for a lasting moment, guilt-stricken, and said nothing. He always looked so sad, Kaz found. Even when they were joking around and having fun, ages ago, he looked sad and miserable and done with the world.

_What a grump. Let him mope, don't worry about him. Tonight's party night._

Big Boss removed his weight from Kaz to sit at the edge of the bed, turned away from him, with his hands in his lap. He thought. Kaz remained where he was, on his back, trying to stop the tears from flowing, wiping them from his face.

"Demons," Big Boss said, after a long while. Kaz tried to catch his gaze, but he was looking somewhere else, searching within himself.

"Right? You see it, too... That's why..."

He stood, suddenly, voice firm.

"It's my fault. I went too far." He still didn't look at Kaz. "I let myself go. I'm sorry."

"No," Kaz protested, weakly. "I wanted you to, I just... I need—god, I need some time. Give me some time." Having regained control of himself, for the most part, Kaz pulled himself upright into a sitting position, leaning against the wall. "You just came back. I was so ready to—please, give me time."

Big Boss nodded, solemnly.

"Is he..." Kaz pulled the blanket up to his chest, draping it over himself, and using it to dry his wet cheeks. He wanted to stay here for a bit, just process everything, and hopefully get a grip while doing so.

"Is he still alive?"

"Sorta."

"I want to deal with him myself, later." End it, and have some conclusion.

"All right."

"It's... funny, actually," Kaz said, letting another moment pass before speaking his mind, "I never thought you—were capable of that. It really got to me."

"I've been on the battlefield for over thirty years now, Kaz," said Big Boss, reminding Kaz how much older and more experienced the other man was. "Sometimes, you have to do these things... out of duty, or due to a lack of choices... I've never enjoyed it." He paused, thoughtfully. "Until now."

It made sense, and yet Kaz couldn't help but be surprised at that confession— _I've done it before._ Kaz, still green and with no experience to speak of, back then, had had no real idea what being a soldier even entailed.

And yet—

_You told me about all these techniques, I just didn't want to believe it. You even told me how you had been instructing interrogators. I thought you were just trying to scare me._

"Will you be okay?" Big Boss asked, apparently wanting to drop the topic.

"You know me," Kaz said, trying to lighten the mood. "I always get back up. Don't worry about me, and take care of business, while I try to pull myself together."

"Take your time," said Big Boss, and turned to leave.

"Ah, wait—"

He stopped. "Hm?"

"My sunglasses, where are they?"

"Ahh," Big Boss scratched a patch of skin below his eyepatch, thinking. "I'll go look for them later."

"Thanks."

The door closed, and Kaz was alone with his thoughts, and the silence. He wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing, and even though his body demanded rest, the last thing he wanted to do was sleep. Maybe he should just do the same as Big Boss, and just not sleep at all. He probably lacked the willpower though, like so often.

Kaz leaned back and rested his eyes anyway, hoping to keep his mind blank, and stop the images from reappearing. It worked, for a while—until the door swung open, way too early, followed by very distinct jingling.

"Still playing the sleeping princess?"

It was Ocelot. Again. Kaz glared at him, pushing himself towards the edge of the bed.

"What do you want?"

"Well, let's say somebody told me that you were planning on, how should I put it, dealing the finishing blow to—"

"Were you eavesdropping on our conversation just now," Kaz interrupted, sharply, in no mood for bullshit. Ocelot raised a brow at him.

"Ocelots happen to have excellent ears."

Kaz groaned.

"In any case, I'm trying to be serious, so hear me out."

"Do I have a choice?"

Ocelot went on, unperturbed. "I'm not looking to criticize John's technique, but he's—" He gestured, searching for the right words. "He's like a caveman. Interrogation is a form of art, and he doesn't grasp the concept. You have to be more delicate."

"Are we seriously having this conversation," Kaz said, and touched his forehead. This was Ocelot he was talking to. Of course they were having this conversation.

"All I'm saying is—if you want to keep things clean and simple and _manageable_ for your poor fragile mind _—_ well, I've offered you my assistance often enough at this point."

"Always so helpful," Kaz spat, but immediately added, "I'll consider it." If only so he would leave him alone.

Though it was a nice gesture, he supposed, ignoring both topic and context. Ocelot was a weird, sadistic bastard, but his support had been and continued to be invaluable. Maybe he should give him more credit.

"Good!" Ocelot said, cheerfully. "That's all. Now hurry up and recover. You're of no use to anyone like this. Especially not to him."

"I know," Kaz grunted, and watched Ocelot leave, who gave him one of his stupid hand gestures that probably meant nothing at all. Once he was gone, Kaz flopped down, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling, sorting out his thoughts.

Maybe if they just did away with the blades, things wouldn't escalate, and he could handle it. Ocelot could always handle it, but Kaz didn't want to be useless, if he had to remain on base—and he definitely had to. That's why Ocelot was so persistent about getting him back up to speed, he assumed—he needed another helping hand, the only one Kaz had to offer.

And if he was capable of handling all the things Ocelot was currently handling, he wouldn't have to watch Big Boss do anything like this again.

Kaz didn't want him to do it. He had committed that one time to memory, burned into his mind.

_You don't have to do this._

He could never hate him, and a part of him would always belong to Big Boss, no matter what. But he'd learned that, despite everything, he would rather keep pretending that this man could be kind, and gentle, even towards his enemies, towards those who had caused him unspeakable pain, because hadn't they all been his enemies at some point?

_You won't have to do this. I promise._

Kaz had always cared less about his own humanity than he did about his, as fleeting and broken as it was, left somewhere in Tselinoyarsk.


	2. illustration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [Mathia Arkoniel](http://mathiaarkoniel.com/)


	3. supplemental/epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Supplemental/epilogue kinda thing, expanding the relationship between Kaz and Ocelot.

It was the gunshot at the end of the recording that always jerked him out of his stupor, out of the white noise that the screaming, pleading, begging had become; nothing but an afterthought, a mush of blood, water, and scorched skin.

But at some point, it always stopped, cut off by a single clean shot, piercing skull, and Kaz breathed deeply, reminded that nothing more could be squeezed out of the lifeless body in front of them, and that pushing it too far was dangerous. Ocelot always ended the interrogation at his own discretion, without giving his unwitting partner, much less their captive, any heads-up. And almost always it resulted in Kaz cursing out loud and striking at him with his walking aid, because _fuck you, we weren't done yet!_

 _We're done_ , Ocelot would reply. _Done for good._

Usually after they had broken and told Big Boss's two lieutenants, shaking and under tears, everything they knew or could remember, begging for it to stop.

 _You need to go into this with a clear head, and a clear objective_ , Ocelot had told him the first time, though Kaz wasn't sure what to make of that back then – he was aware that Ocelot knew what he was talking about, but his own pride prevented him from taking advice concerning _mental safety measures_ from a man who was a professional sadist.

_So, Kaz. What do you still want from this man?_

_I want him to fucking beg for death._

_Then we'll make him do that._

And nothing more.

_Once you lose yourself in the act, you'll lose sight of things. Someone taught me that, once._

After he had finished listening to their most recent recording the second time, Kaz rewind the tape, placing the device back on the table. Ocelot, spurs coupled with a certain swagger to his steps making it difficult to mistake him for anyone else, strode into the room after he was done personally with cleaning his equipment in the adjacent one and making sure the body was disposed of, orderly – preparing and tidying up the room for the next person like it was an operating suite.

Some poor guy was also still tasked with scrubbing the concrete floor a couple hours every day, trying to get rid of the mess Big Boss had left around a month ago. Ocelot looked at the dark stain with disdain whenever he entered the room, but never brought it up.

They all had their quirks.

“Done yet?” Kaz asked, still sitting. He could see Ocelot playing with his revolver from the corner of his vision; he stopped the pretentious spinning only when he noticed a speck of blood and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe it from the cold steel.

“For now. And it only took – “ He glanced at his watch before holstering his weapon. “Two-thirty?”

“They break too fast,” Kaz said, expression grim, fingers idly playing with the tape recorder, containing the entire session, including various confessions, though they were mostly useless. He still found himself wanting to prolong the interrogation for no other reason but satisfaction, to get at least _something_ out of it, although rationally, he knew that could have repercussions, as his last mental meltdown had proven – he didn't want a repeat of that. He also noticed that it was mostly fine as long as Big Boss wasn't in the vicinity.

You knew something was wrong with you when you felt more at ease around Ocelot than around the man you trusted with your life. He decided not to dwell on that, however, because they all had more important things on their minds, like expanding Outer Heaven, combating Cipher, revenge – the usual, all the excuses they still had for being here at all.

“Get used to it,” said Ocelot, dismissively, one of his gloved hands stealing the tape recorder from Kaz's, who commented on that little act of thievery with a grunt.

“I knew only one man who didn't break. He was something else.”

It was then, just as Kaz opened his mouth for a retort, that the door swung open. Their Boss's timing was impeccable lately, so unlike him. Kaz tensed up, closing his mouth and pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose.

“You're back early,” Ocelot said, it was both a statement and an informal greeting. He gave a little wave with the tape recorder to signal _yes, we're done_ , because that would undoubtedly be Big Boss's first question. They had already grown accustomed to a certain routine – Big Boss did all the field work, while Ocelot and Kaz took care of literally everything else. Staff management, construction, supplies, strategic planning, radio support, intelligence, interrogation. The list went on.

Big Boss said nothing, but one glance at him was enough to determine that he was in a sour mood, his silence misleading.

He also tended to be very agitated lately, wound up; the tiniest irritation enough to make him snap.

Sometimes, him filling a room with his presence was so suffocating Kaz had to fight the urge to not just up and leave, their combined misery too much to handle. Kaz remained in his seat, but decided not to ask what had gone wrong this time while he was out there. Ocelot tossed the device over at their Boss, who caught it effortlessly with his right hand, still whole.

“Anything useful?” He asked, to the point. Ocelot shrugged.

“I don't think so. Kaz?”

“No,” Kaz said immediately, absurdly aware of his own breath and heartbeat. “He was just a grunt. Nothing of value that could help us pin down the...” He trailed off, watching as Big Boss slowly, almost delicately, fumbled the cassette tape out of the recorder.

Then it was crushed between the red metal of his prosthetic fingers, and crumpled into a tiny plastic ball like it was paper. Kaz stared and instinctively shifted away from that noise, until he pressed against the back of the chair.

“In other words,” Big Boss drawled, and Kaz's gaze followed the remains of the tape, now being dropped onto the floor. “I am not bringing you the right people.”

Kaz didn't know what to say. Ocelot spoke up as he inhaled sharply, “It's not our methods. It doesn't matter how much time you spend on a man, if he doesn't know anything, he will just start to make things up, and that's not the point.”

“Oh?” Big Boss gave him a look that was anything but friendly. Ocelot didn't waver, posture and expression both relaxed. _Funny_ , Kaz thought, despite already knowing that this was going to turn out ugly, _could've sworn they got their roles mixed up._

“We're doing what we can, Boss.”

_But still not enough._

Big Boss tossed the now empty tape recorder back to Ocelot – but far more aggressively, and aimed at his head. When Ocelot, reflexes as fast as his namesake, swerved to the side to dodge the projectile to have it hit the wall behind him instead, he stepped right into Big Boss's clenched prosthetic fist, which collided with his face with a crunch.

“ _Jesus fucking Christ!_ ” Kaz exclaimed, startled, pushing against the table so hard and sudden he and his chair almost toppled over. Big Boss had Ocelot by his neck, a steel grip, pushing him against the wall and stripping him off the ability to speak. Ocelot's right hand hovered over his revolver, without drawing it.

“Would you stop it!” Kaz shouted, voice shrill, unable to even get between the two – not like he'd ever had any chance against Big Boss in the past. “Stop it!!”

But at least in the past, he'd never had to worry about Big Boss intending to kill him just because he wasn't happy with something. His head started to feel light, and he wasn't getting enough air – he needed to get out, just, _please stop it already_ –

Finally, he released Ocelot of his crushing grip, who hadn't retaliated at all, and as he sharply sucked in air his hand immediately flew up only to touch and inspect the wound at his chin, courtesy of Big Boss. He didn't leave his spot, even with the slightly taller man still taking up space in his personal bubble, snorting.

“What's gotten into you?!” Kaz screeched, his voice shaking. _Not again_ , he thought. _I was doing fine. Why..._

For a moment, Big Boss's gaze dropped to the ground, and he seemed just as confused when he spotted his own crimson hand, fist slowly unclenching. But his expression hardened again within a matter of seconds.

“I'm gonna tell you two something,” he said, calmly. “Listen closely.” He sounded each word out.

“I've had enough. I didn't come back from hell for this, for wasting more of everyone's _fucking_ time. Kaz,” he looked at the man, “you can't just ask me to take revenge on the whole goddamn world on your behalf without being prepared to deal with the consequences. And I will _not_ run this army,” inhale, exhale, “the same way I did before. You're going to produce results. You'll provide me with a list of targets tomorrow, and don't fuck it up this time. Did I make myself clear?”

Kaz's eyes widened. _Did he just imply I am useless?_

“I'm – “

“Crystal,” Ocelot interjected casually, hand clenched around his jaw, setting it. Then he wiped over the corner of his mouth and raised a brow when he spotted a bit of blood on his glove.

He didn't even seem to care.

“Speaking of, our men have started construction on the new mess hall this morning. Should make sure they do their job right.”

But Kaz was almost sure he wanted to leave just as much. Ocelot moved past Big Boss. Kaz wanted to follow suit, but had trouble getting up, as his walking aid had clattered to the ground at some point during this. When he spotted it, he pulled it closer with his foot, and almost fell. Big Boss brushed his shoulder when he finally stood, causing him to flinch. The older man continued to make his way to another part of the room, where more recordings and related files were stashed away, organized by numbers, no names.

He was infinitely glad when he could finally shut the door behind himself. Ocelot was still there, in the hallway, drab like the rest of the base.

They exchanged a look. Kaz was pale, skin tone nicely contrasting the blood still smeared around the cuts on Ocelot's face.

After a moment, shuffling could be heard from within the room they had just left. Then a heavy thud, and something wooden being smashed against a wall in a destructive frenzy, bursting. Tearing. It went on, for a while. Kaz was as rigid as his walking aid he was resting his weight on.

“Wanna go out and get some fresh air?” Ocelot inquired, pointing in the appropriate direction. Kaz nodded and started to move without thinking, throat still constricted like he had been the one in Big Boss's grasp.

**

_I knew only one man who didn't break._

In the twilight, Kaz sat hunched over a pile of blueprints and reports, right next to an overflowing ashtray. The images and words meant little to him as he had trouble processing them, thoughts always flicking back to a certain man, and his uncompromising attitude.

A long time ago, they had been able to talk, about problems that really couldn't be addressed in any other way. Sometimes it was easier to get a message across with a well-aimed punch, he'd admit – and more often than not, those people, himself included, probably deserved them.

But in those nine, almost ten years, words seemed to have died completely, and Big Boss's patience was wearing thin.

Kaz knew he was part of the problem, demanding too much, and too broken himself to keep them both grounded anymore.

Or maybe they never really had been.

He blinked a few times, looking up as a shadow in shape of a man was cast over his face. It was Ocelot, sitting down opposite him at the small table, which he had relocated outside, not far from a storage unit. Some men were still busy unloading the latest delivery of supplies, briefly instructed by Ocelot, who placed down a bottle of vodka and two glasses.

_Russian after all._

“No progress,” Ocelot observed, blue eyes glancing at Kaz's pile of documents. Kaz shook his head, and accepted the invitation to drink by pouring both Ocelot and himself a glass. Not a bad idea, given he was already out of smokes, and they probably wouldn't get more until the day after tomorrow.

The knowledge that Big Boss wouldn't approve of them just sitting there and drinking hung in the air, but remained unspoken.

During the time that had passed, Ocelot had taken care both of his bruises and various tasks around the growing base, like he did every day while still keeping his cover, his other identity as Cipher spy, fully intact and functional. Nobody could blame him for not doing everything he could and more, and yet Big Boss's indiscriminate outburst of aggression had been targeted at him. And Ocelot had accepted it, like it meant nothing.

He didn't understand this man, at all.

“Earlier,” Kaz said, after swallowing some of the alcohol and letting it warmth settle at his stomach, “You mentioned a man who never broke. You meant Snake, right?”

Ocelot's lips twisted into a feral smirk that made him look handsome, despite his age. “Sharp as always.”

“You still think so?”

Ocelot snorted something of a laugh, his long index finger trailing along the rim of his own glass, as he seemed lost in thought for a moment, recalling a past where things had been simpler.

“We all have our cracks, some more obvious than others. Look,” he idly pointed at Kaz's glass, which had a tiny fissure, running along the bottom. “Didn't break yet. Just be careful with the pressure.”

Kaz frowned, removing his hand. “Now who's sharp,” he said. Ocelot laughed. There was no malice in it.

“He never told me about how you two met, you know.”

“He didn't tell me about you either,” said Ocelot.”But he didn't need to.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was twenty years old back then, high-ranking and a pretty good shot if I do say so myself, and until that point I had never,” Ocelot paused, and gestured, dramatically, “ _never_ been so humiliated in my entire life. He just came waltzing in and wiped the floor with me like it was child's play, even _lectured_ me.”

Not it was Kaz's turn to laugh, although it died down pretty fast once he realized what Ocelot was alluding to – and remembered his first meeting with Big Boss. Ocelot's eyes shone.

“In short, it was amazing.”

Well, that's one way to put it. But somehow Kaz could still relate; as angry as he'd been back then, at Big Boss and his arrogant attitude, he'd been one of a kind. Still was.

“Pretty weird fetish you have there,” Kaz remarked, like the hypocrite he'd been his entire life.

And again Ocelot laughed, heartily, earnestly.

“I _like_ you, Miller.”

When Kaz had first met Ocelot, as a triple, perhaps occasionally quadruple spy working for Cipher, it hadn't taken him long to figure out that he, much like himself, had spent years crafting a front for himself, and filtered through it, he could easily construct the most elaborate lies and make them sound like the honest truth, without ever revealing any of his true intentions or feelings.

And yet, Kaz was almost certain he had deciphered the real message behind those few, condensed words; which in themselves meant nothing at all.

_If you ever give me a reason to kill you, it might, perhaps, under certain circumstances, and on a particularly bad day, make me feel just slightly uncomfortable, and that would be unfortunate, no?_

Kaz's gaze dropped, and he stared at his glass instead. “Not sure if that's a good or a bad thing.”

“Time will tell,” Ocelot said casually, and drank. Then he continued, “Either way, it left quite the impression on my young self, you could say. I began to think about a lot of things, but it always came back to him.”

It was like Ocelot was musing about and exploring the questions Kaz had asked himself, over and over again, only that he sounded way more confident, and already knew the answer.

Kaz supposed there was more than one kind of help.

“I looked at what this man had accomplished, _continued_ to accomplish, and I thought he was worth more than any country, any ideology. He inspired me. I thought he could change the world, because he had changed me.“

Ocelot paused, watching as he made the liquid in his glass swirl.

“I don't intend to turn my back on him when the world changes him.”

_There's your answer._

Silence lingered after that. Kaz exhaled a shaky breath. This did nothing to soothe his guilty conscience, but at least it was honest – or he hoped it was.

“I wasn't actually expecting you to tell me all of that.”

“Like I said. I like you. So does he.” Ocelot looked at him over his glass as he took a couple more sips, downing the vodka like it was water.

“Is it love?” Kaz blurted – he wasn't actually sure why, probably because he had mistaken his own feelings for love before – and Ocelot almost choked on his drink.

“What the – “

“Do you love him?”

“You know, my fondness of people is proportional to their usefulness. If you keep asking me foolish questions, I may have to reconsider – “

“Please,” Kaz insisted. “It's important.”

Ocelot looked at him like he would at a retarded toddler, then sighed. “Love is such a trite concept. You're sounding just like her,” he narrowed his eyes, but continued before Kaz could ask about who he meant, because that would open a whole other can of worms.

“Love also implies mutuality, which is irrelevant in the big picture, and is often enough cause for misery that could have been easily avoided – by keeping your purpose in mind. I don't need him to _love_ me to function.” He said the word love like it was some disgusting, slimy thing, or poison.

Food for doubt.

“Believe me, having your heart broken is another surefire way to madness. Just look at him.”

“I thought he didn't break.”

“Not in that regard. Still human, you see. I know it's easy to forget sometimes.”

Kaz squinted at him. “And you're not?”

“I'm trying.” His answer was curt, but firm. This conversation had taken a turn somewhere and he didn't like where it was heading. “But I don't owe you any more explanations. I owe you nothing, in fact. Don't demand more than I offer you, Miller.”

His tone was cold and professional, the complete opposite to what it had been the past couple minutes – past couple days, even, and again Kaz understood the signal. _Until here and no further._

So Kaz said, “Fine. Forget it.”

“Glad we got that sorted out,” replied Ocelot, downed what was left of his drink, and took about half of the documents on Kaz's To-Do pile, working through them in silence, and Kaz did the same.

They were done around nightfall, when it was getting too dark too see, about the same time Big Boss started rounding up his dogs to go hunting, passing both men by without taking note of them.

Ocelot collected their papers, and stood, about to head back inside.

“Wait,” said Kaz. Ocelot listened.

“Help me up.” The other man blinked slowly.

That was the first time he asked.

“I'm starting to think we should just get you a wheelchair,” Ocelot sighed, but handed Kaz his crutch all the same, putting an arm around his shoulders for support as he helped him up.

Leaning on Ocelot, Kaz grouched, “And I'm thinking it's about time you get us those prosthetics you promised over two weeks ago.”

“Can't work miracles, Miller.”


End file.
